


Domestic Real

by LadyDrace



Series: Junk Ficlets from Tumblr [135]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Domestic, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 03:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13604511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: The thing to finally humanize (heh) Derek Hale for Stiles is... oddly enough, housework.





	Domestic Real

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [on Tumblr](http://ladydrace.tumblr.com/post/157524806931/domestic-real) as a little gift for Villainny. 
> 
> Unbetaed.

”Be there in a minute, Stiles!” Derek calls from somewhere in the depths of the actually really nice apartment he got, once he finally admitted to himself and everyone else that he was sticking around, and that the loft was too much of a health hazard. No matter how much it spoke to his minimalistic, emo soul.

 

All right, Stiles knows he's being kinda rude. He's probably the one person who has any real understanding of Derek's issues. They've both been used against their will, and isn't _that_ just the shittiest middle ground to meet on.

 

He shuts the front door behind him, and bounces on his feet for a second before giving up on waiting. Patience isn't his strong suit, and Derek should know that by now. There are some vague brushy or swishy sounds coming from somewhere, and Stiles follows them to the bathroom. Since the door is wide open he doesn't hesitate to poke his head in. If he gets an eyeful of Derek's naked ass it's his own damn fault for acting like he was born in a barn, which is probably about the same as being born in the woods. Stiles is busy amusing himself with thoughts of baby wolf Derek lifting leg in the preserve, when he makes it around the corner and has to stop dead, because somehow the scenario in front of him is the one he least expected. Literally. He'd be less surprised to see Derek mortally wounded or dancing the tarantella. Because mind control is a common thing in their fucked up lives.

 

What he somehow never thought he'd see, is Derek bent over the toilet bowl, brush in hand, scrubbing away at what must be some stubborn calcium deposits or something.

 

It's like an endless line of error messages flashing across Stiles' brain, because his mental image of Derek just does not include housework. At all. _Does not compute_.

 

Of all the things in the world to shift Stiles' view of someone, scrubbing toilets is so very much not the first thing that comes to mind.

 

”Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Derek grumbles, his voice echoing slightly from so close to the toilet bowl, and Stiles sputters out an ugly snorting laugh, because what the hell even. He can barely comprehend what he's seeing.

 

”Dude, don't say that. I just _might_.”

 

”Upload it anywhere, and I will _filet_ you.” It would sound a lot more threatening from literally anywhere other than two inches from a toilet, but even if it had been uttered in a more ominous setting, Stiles would have scoffed anyway. He's known from very early on that Derek is a complete marshmallow, and unless you're an epic asshole towards him – like digging up his dead sister or accusing him of murder – the worst you can expect is a noogie. Or a wet willy. That one had been about as brain breaking as the housework, actually. A Derek who has fun is in the same category as a Derek who cleans toilets. The category of _what the fuck_.

 

Derek finally straightens up and flushes the bowl, apparently satisfied at last, and puts the brush back in the holder. He gives Stiles a strange look as he heads to the sink to wash his hands. ”What's wrong with you?” he asks, and Stiles has to shake himself to get out of this weird new headspace where Derek does housework. Though of course he does, he's an adult, and as far as Stiles knows he doesn't have anyone else clean his house for him. And the place isn't a dump, so... logic.

 

But it's still just... _so weird_.

 

“Just admiring this domestic side of yours. It's kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

 

He gets the stink eye, but just grins back. There's no blip to be heard in his heartbeat, because he's always found Derek stupidly hot no matter what he's doing.

 

“Stick around, and I'll be doing laundry too,” Derek shoots back, drying his hands. “Should I be charging for the show?”

 

Stiles shrugs. “Depends how sensually you fold your boxers.”

 

Derek pretends to think about it for a second, and Stiles can't help but burst out laughing. “You crack me up, Derek Hale,” he wheezes, and wipes his eyes.

 

“That's a relief, seeing as I live for your amusement,” Derek says, knocking their shoulders together as he passes by.

 

It's only as Stiles is sitting alone in his own apartment later in the quiet, and his brain is cycling through the events of the day, that he realizes that this is the new normal. The terrifying events of his teens shaped him into a bitingly cynical adult in a lot of ways, and that actually helped him understand why Derek's character was what it was, back when everything was just starting to go to shit, and he was just trying not to fall apart. Stiles has been at that point too.

 

But they're all adults now, and nothing has been trying to kill them for almost as many years as they spent battling one horror after the other. They all have jobs and lives, and the normality of it all kinda snuck up on Stiles. Just figures it takes Derek Hale scrubbing his toilet for Stiles to come to that realization.

 

It occurs to him roughly at the same time that the nebulous _some day_ he'd been saying in his head for years now has actually arrived. _Some day_ he'll be a responsible adult. _Some day_ he'll be more annoyed with taxes than with monsters trying to eat him. _Some day_... he'll brave it, and ask Derek out on a date.

 

Though, to be fair, back then it had been more of a bucket list type of thing, where he was fully expecting to be shoved into a wall for it, but the satisfaction of saying he'd tried seemed worth it at the time.

 

But now Derek is the guy who picks up milk for Stiles if he texts him he forgot to go to the store. Now Derek is high on the list of friends Stiles calls if he needs to talk, or wants to hang out. Hell, Derek's competing with Scott sometimes for the best friend slot.

 

And if all of that wasn't enough, Derek Hale is now also a _normal person_. Werewolf, sure. But a werewolf who does dishes and folds laundry and gets cheeto dust in his beard and watches movies and jokes with Stiles and gives wet willies.

 

It's almost like he's... _real_.

 

Stiles may or may not have a small panic attack over it all, which is just typical, and goes to show that their lives will never be truly normal. It's weirdly comforting in its familiarity, actually.

 

The look on Derek's face when Stiles shows up on his doorstep the next day with flowers is so epic it really does tempt Stiles for a moment to record it for posterity.

 

“Are... these for me?” Derek asks, eyeing the mixed bouquet with a sort of cautious interest, like he's hoping, but doesn't quite believe it yet.

 

“Yup!” Stiles hands them over with a flourish, and the tiny, soft smile on Derek's face is all the confirmation Stiles needs that this was the right way to go. In his opinion Derek deserves to be wined and dined properly for once in his life, but he wasn't entirely sure Derek would even welcome that kind of attention. “And all I want in return is for you to tell me if you're free tomorrow night.”

 

“Sure,” Derek says distractedly, blatantly sniffing the flowers to Stiles' delight. “You wanna come over?”

 

“I was actually hoping to take you out,” Stiles says, shutting the door behind him as Derek wanders towards the kitchen, probably looking for a vase. “Like, uh. On a date.”

 

Derek stops in the doorway to the kitchen, and takes a few steps backwards in a hilarious move that makes Stiles want to burst out laughing, but he bites down on it. The last thing he needs is for Derek to think it's a joke of some kind. For the moment, though, all he does is stare.

 

“I mean, if you, uh... want to. You can totally say no,” Stiles stammers, cursing his failing courage.

 

“Why now?” Derek asks after another long bout of silent staring, and it's a valid question.

 

“Because. It's _some day_ now. We're... _there_.” Stiles shrugs helplessly, but Derek seems to get it. In fact, Derek has always seemed to get Stiles in a lot of ways.

 

Still, his firm nod takes Stiles by surprise. “Okay,” Derek says, and disappears into the kitchen.

 

Stiles follows him, not sure he knows what that even means. “Okay? Okay as in, _okay, I won't maul you_? Or _okay, I will go out with you_? What?!”

 

He fidgets impatiently as he watches Derek put the flowers in water and arrange them in the vase, but of course the jerk doesn't answer until he's completely satisfied with their position and turns around, leaning casually against the counter.

 

“Okay.”

 

For a second Stiles just stares, but then Derek's face cracks with a smug grin, and god, he is _such_ an asshole. Stiles is gonna date the _fuck_ out of him.

 

End.

 


End file.
